


Things To Do In Toronto When You're Dead

by celli, TMar



Category: Forever Knight, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 08:59:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17056817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMar/pseuds/TMar
Summary: Richie Ryan wakes up from the dead in a morgue in Toronto. Toronto, where a lot of vampires live. One, Nick Knight, looks like a friend of Duncan's.





	Things To Do In Toronto When You're Dead

**Author's Note:**

> We wrote this together in about 1995. It's a crossover between "Forever Knight" and "Highlander", with Richie Ryan being the only character from "Highlander" in the present. Duncan appears in a flashback. Most of the characters from season 3 of "Forever Knight" appear. 
> 
> We shamelessly used the fact that Geraint Wyn Davies played both Nick Knight in "Forever Knight" and Michael Moore in the "Highlander" episode "Turnabout" as a plot point!

THINGS TO DO IN TORONTO WHEN YOU'RE DEAD

Place: Toronto, Ontario, Canada  
Time: Late summer, 1995 (just before "The Innocent")

Richie Ryan woke up with a start, to find something covering  
his face. "Aaahh!" he yelled, sitting up, trying to remember what  
had happened. Wherever he was, it was dark and very cold. He  
groped around in the darkness, wondering... And then it hit him. "Oh,  
no." He was in a morgue again. This time, it wasn't even his  
fault - which would please Duncan only a little when he told him.

Richie swung his feet over the edge of the steel table he had  
been lying on, and stood up. The floor was cold too. Damn. As his  
eyes grew accustomed to the dark, Richie saw that he was in the  
morgue with three other people. Three other *dead* people. Three  
other dead, *naked* people. That thought made Richie cover  
himself with the sheet that had been over him. He went to the  
door and listened. When he didn't hear anything on the other  
side, he tried the handle. The door opened, and he stepped out  
cautiously.

As he stepped around and closed the door, he heard a gasp and  
a clatter. Behind him stood a friendly looking woman wearing a  
lab coat, hair done up in a bun at the back of her head. At the  
moment, however, she looked rather shocked. She had dropped a  
test tube and microscope slide on the floor.

Richie fumbled for an explanation. "Uh... hi. I guess someone  
made a mistake, huh?" He walked towards the woman, as if to  
reassure her.

But she backed away. "I won't say anything." Her hand reached  
for something on a cart next to her desk, and she held it out to  
him, looking a bit calmer now. "Here. To show my good faith.  
Drink this."

Richie looked at what she held out to him. It was an IV bag,  
filled with... blood. Blood?! Richie looked at the woman like she  
was crazy. "Er, no, that's okay. I don't have a real big appetite  
for human bodily fluids, thanks."

She looked confused. "You don't?"

"Well, no." Richie adjusted the sheet. "Look, do you have some  
clothes or something that I can put on?"

That seemed to snap the woman out of whatever it was. She  
quite visibly relaxed. "Sure." She handed him a spare lab coat.  
"Put this on."

"Thanks." He put it on, wondering if now might not be a good  
time to make a strategic exit. "Look, thanks for your... er...  
help and everything, but I gotta go." He turned for the door, but  
she rushed up and blocked his way. 

"No! The sun is still up!"

Richie didn't know what to say to that. Offering him blood,  
not wanting him to go out in the sun... "Look, thank you for your  
help, but I really do have to go." He pushed past her and went  
into the passage. Hopefully he could get out of here now without  
too many people noticing. At least the lab coat was something. He  
would have had a hard time getting out of here in just a sheet.  
He came to the door of the building, opened it just a little, and  
looked out. There was no one around. Good. Richie ran off into  
the sunlight.

***

Natalie Lambert, who was in fact the coroner, had come into the  
passage after the young man, and stared as he went outside, waiting for  
him to come back in, burning from the contact with sunlight. But he  
didn't. She only hoped that he would find shelter somewhere close by  
until sunset. It did not occur to Natalie that he might not be a vampire.  
He had been dead, he had woken up in the morgue... just like Nick a couple  
of years ago. And he seemed... well, nice. Normal, almost. Nat knew that  
not all vampires were evil. Many weren't. Nick, Janette, even Nick's  
partner's new interest, Vachon... or so Nick said. But why had this  
particular one refused the blood?

No matter what, Nat didn't want anything to happen to him. Since he had  
"come back" in her morgue, it seemed only fair that she try to find out  
if he was okay. She decided to wait until dark and then call Nick.

***

"Nick, I'm telling you, he ran out into the sunlight!"

"Maybe he wasn't a vampire," responded Nick Knight, vampire  
homicide detective.

Natalie wasn't buying that one. "What else could he be? I  
checked when he arrived. He was dead, Nick. No pulse, nothing. I  
turn around for five minutes, and there he is, standing in my  
morgue with not a mark on him!"

"Well, do you know what happened to him?"

"The officer who brought him in gave me a jumbled story. Something about  
water from a burst pipe making his bike skid. He was thrown against a very  
solid wall. Shattered almost every bone in his body."

"And you're sure he was dead?"

"I told you, Nick. As a doornail. In my medical opinion," she gave  
him a sharp look, "there was no way he could even have gotten up, let alone  
run away the way he did. He didn't have a scratch. I don't know of any  
humans that can do that, do you?"

Nick was forced to concede. "No." But he had an idea of what the young  
man night be... "Personal effects?"

"A wallet, backpack, and a sword."

Nick gave Nat a knowing look. "Did you say a sword?"

Natalie nodded, and Nick smiled.

"He isn't a vampire."

"What do you mean, he..."

"He's a special type of human, an Immortal."

Natalie looked shocked. "A what?"

Nick smiled. For some reason, the paths of Immortals and vampires hardly  
ever crossed - probably because Immortals did most of their business in the  
daytime - but Nick knew of the occasional meeting. He'd had them himself.

Natalie was looking irritated. He must have gotten that far  
away look in his eyes again. "Immortals are like normal humans  
except they don't age and they can't die." He paused. "Well, they  
*can* die, in one way, just as we can."

Natalie smiled. "A stake through the heart?"

Nick grinned at her. "No."

"Let me think... I know it isn't sunlight. That kid ran off  
into the sun. Fire?"

Nick shook his head.

Natalie tried to remember the other thing that could kill a  
vampire.

"Decapitation?"

"Yeah."

"So you're saying there are people who live among us who are  
just like us except they can't die?"

"Yeah."

"A good deal for them, I'd say."

Nick wasn't sure. "Maybe not. They are involved in something  
they call 'the Game'. They have to fight each other, cutting each  
others' heads off, until there is only one left. The last one  
wins something called 'the Prize'."

Instead of looking shocked, Natalie looked... relieved. "That  
explains two deaths last year. Decapitation. And swords found  
nearby."

"Yeah."

"Why would the Enforcers care about these immortal people?"

"Because, Nat, decapitation can also kill a vampire. And  
because vampires also heal quickly, Immortals could mistake us  
for one of them, and kill us. If the Enforcers find out that any  
Immortal has been near a vampire, they kill the Immortal."

"Have Immortals ever mistaken vampires for other Immortals?"

"Not that I know of," said Nick. "Only once..." He trailed  
off, thinking about the first Immortal he'd ever met. A man named  
Duncan MacLeod.

*** Paris, 1840 ***

Nick stood on one side of the Champs-Elysees and admired the  
sight. A funeral procession was coming - a very special one. Napoleon was  
being brought home tonight. The failed emperor was being brought back to  
Paris with all the glory he'd have wanted - or, more likely, orchestrated  
himself. Nick smiled ironically at the thought. He wandered a bit  
farther down the bank as more people pressed in to gape at the lighted  
barge approaching les Invalides. He moved deeper and deeper into the  
shadows and the edges of the crowd, lost in his own thoughts.

He was abruptly snapped out of his reverie by a knife in his  
chest. He started. What--?

Three young toughs jumped him from all sides. The rapidly  
thinning crowd chose to ignore the situation - it was safer that way. He  
snarled and batted the attackers away with more impatience than grace.

The tallest and obviously most stupid of the three picked himself up and  
went for Nick again, trying to twist the knife farther into the vampire's  
chest. Nick looked down at the mortal mangling his evening clothes and  
took in a quick breath through his nose. "You're really starting to  
irritate me," he said in a low voice. With a flip of his hand, he tossed  
the fool several yards back into the shadows.

His eyes widened when he heard a thump and a muffled "Oof!" His  
lips curved. Apparently he had better aim than he'd intended.  
He watched a tall dark man step into the dim light, brushing off  
the sleeves of his jacket and looking down at the would-be murderer  
incredulously. 

"That was an interesting experience, friend," he said in French.  
"Would you mind telling me - " He broke off, staring, as he caught  
sight of Nick. "Mon Dieu!"

Nick looked down and realized that the robber's knife was still  
half-buried in his chest. Damn! He looked back up at the stranger,  
searching for an excuse. But before he could make a move, the man's  
look changed to recognition.

"Michael!" The man suddenly hurried to him, threw an arm around  
his shoulders, and started leading him off. He switched to English. "My  
God, what are you doing in France? And how on Earth did you sneak up on  
me like that? I should have - Never mind. Come on. Let's get you out of  
here."

"Ah... I'm fine," Nick said. He was completely bewildered when the  
other man laughed.

"Of course you are, old friend. But do we want everyone around  
to know that - and why?"

Nick let himself be led away. He was completely confused.

***

Nick and the stranger stopped a safe distance from the  
celebration. The other man waited while Nick got rid of the dagger and  
rearranged his coat to hide the signs of the attack. He straightened and  
tried to reclaim some of his dignity. "I thank you," he said as formally  
as possible.

The other man stared at him. "Michael, what's wrong with you?"

"Michael?" It was time to correct this. "My name is Nicholas."

"You're not Michael? But you - " The man broke off and stared  
hard at Nick. "I wondered what happened to the glasses. Well, then. I  
am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. Do ye wish to fight me?"

'Ah, Scottish,' Nick thought distractedly.'And introducing himself like  
that...' This must be one of the Immortals that LaCroix was always warning  
him against. That explained the odd sense he got from MacLeod, like a  
strongly beating heart. He widened his eyes and tried to focus on that  
heartbeat. "You don't want to fight me," he said in an echoing voice.

"I don't. I don't?" MacLeod said, confused. He shook his head  
fretfully. "What--? Stop that!" He raised his sword and advanced on  
Nick.

Nick growled under his breath. Damn resistors! He weighed his  
options and decided on intimidation. He closed his eyes briefly. When  
he opened them, they glowed yellow, and fangs suddenly appeared. "I  
wouldn't try it. I really wouldn't," he snarled. He laughed when  
MacLeod jumped back a foot.

"What the devil are you?"

"That's an interesting way of putting it. I am Nicolas de Brabant. I  
served in the Crusades and was brought across in 1228. I am a vampire."

"Sweet Jesus." MacLeod's voice was hushed. Then he came back to  
himself with a jerk. "I am Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. I was  
born in the Highlands of Scotland in 1592. I died for the first time  
in 1622. I am Immortal. I cannot die - "

"Unless your head is taken from your body?"

MacLeod swallowed heavily and nodded. Nick allowed himself a small smile.  
"I know the feeling."

They stood there for a moment, taking each other's measure. Then  
MacLeod relaxed a fraction. "But you won't take my head, will you?"

Nick felt that he probably should. The Enforcers would be after him in a  
second if they knew. But he found himself shaking his head. "Not unless  
you try to take mine."

MacLeod relaxed even more. "So, why don't I put down my sword  
and you - put away your fangs and we'll talk to each other like civilized  
people?"

Like a flash, Nick was back to normal. "Sounds good to me."

MacLeod grinned and resheathed his sword. "Let's go."

***

A few hours later, Nick and his newfound friend were sitting on  
the bank of the Seine. MacLeod was swigging Scotch with a slightly  
desperate look on his face - he had talked Nick into a flying  
demonstration, and was severely regretting it. Nick was lounging back on  
one elbow, watching the spectacle with amusement.

"Oddest damn thing," MacLeod said for the umpteenth time. Nick  
grinned as the Scot swayed dangerously. He toppled over as a thought  
disrupted his balancing process. "I can't wait to tell Fitzcairn! He'll-"

"No."

MacLeod blinked owlishly. "No?"

"Not unless you want the both of you to die."

MacLeod snorted. "They canna do anything - Aah!" In the space  
between one word and the next, Nick pinned him to the ground.

"Listen to me," he said. He was not trying to influence MacLeod,  
but some of his intensity must have leaked through. The Highlander's  
eyes snapped wide open. Nick continued relentlessly. "I've told you  
about the Enforcers. If they find out you know what I am, you will die.  
If they find out what *you* are, you will die. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand." MacLeod's voice was surprisingly sober.

Nick let go and stood with a long-suffering sigh. "Are all  
Immortals as hard to convince as you?"

MacLeod smirked. "Yes. But I don't recommend trying." 

Nick raised an eyebrow. "My kind can be trusted about as much as yours."

"I see." Nick smiled. Then he looked up at the sky. "Time to leave."

"Why - oh, sunrise?" MacLeod held out a hand. "Goodbye then,  
Nicolas de Brabant. It's been a pleasure."

"That it has, Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod. Until we meet  
again." Nick launched himself into the sky.

***

Natalie had listened attentively to Nick's tale. "So he knew  
that you weren't one of 'them'?"

"I think so. He wouldn't talk about it. I think they can  
recognise each other."

"But they can't recognise vampires?"

Nick shook his head. "I don't think so."

"What about you, can you..."

"Recognise them? No. All I felt from Duncan was a strong...  
presence."

"Then the Enforcers are dead wrong," said Natalie. "Immortals  
aren't a threat to you."

"If you knew the Enforcers, Nat..." Nick trailed off. "They  
like to be certain. That's why I told Duncan never, ever to  
mention vampires, to say that we don't exist. It's safer that way."

Nat looked solemn. She already knew the danger the Enforcers  
presented personally. "It would be safer if you didn't know him, Nick."

Nick looked thoughtful. "Yeah, it would. There's just one  
problem: he's my friend. I haven't seen him for sixty years, but  
that doesn't change anything. He told me, though, that few other  
Immortals would take my existence as easily as he had. That I  
must never reveal my knowledge of them, either."

"So it's a double secret."

"Yeah."

"And what about this young Immortal who was in my morgue? Do  
you know anything about him?"

"No. What does his ID say?"

"He was carrying ID under the name of Bill Powell, but  
something tells me that isn't his real name."

Nick grinned. "Anymore than Nick Knight is my real name. Yeah.  
Do you still have his stuff?"

"Right here," said Nat, pointing to the bag on the opposite  
table.

"He'll be back for it. If Duncan was right, no Immortal can  
ever afford to be without his sword."

***

Richie was halfway down the street, huddling into the coat  
and trying to avoid the curious glances that followed him, when  
he stopped in his tracks.

"My sword!"

He turned and started to head back for the morgue. Then he  
stopped himself. He couldn't go back now. Not when that weird  
woman was there. She might try to give him blood again. 'She must  
belong to a voodoo cult...or something.'

He headed for his hotel -- thankfully not a long walk from the  
station. He'd break into his room, grab some clothes, and wait  
till dark, when the crazy chick wouldn't be around. Then he'd go  
for his sword.

***

The watch they'd left on his wrist said 11:00 when Richie  
sneaked into the morgue. He slid behind the door he'd run out of  
earlier and peered in. He couldn't see anyone. He eased the door  
open and stepped in quietly, heading for his bag--

And whirled around when the door opened again. A woman walked  
in. But, thankfully, not the crazy chick. She was more petite,  
with short blonde hair and delicate features.

"Uh, hi," she said in a clear Canadian-accented voice. "Can I  
help you?"

"I'm--uh--" Richie fumbled. 'I was just looking for the stuff  
I left here when I was dead? What am I supposed to--'

A deep voice came from behind him and to the side. "He's with  
me, Trace."

Richie nearly jumped out of his skin. Sitting on a gurney  
behind him was a pleasant-looking man with blonde hair, about the  
same apparent age as Duncan. He was wearing sunglasses. 'At  
night?' thought Richie as the man shot him a look of warning and  
turned back to the woman.

"We were just getting some stuff for Nat," he continued,  
smiling. "Don't worry about us."

"Okay," she said. She shot them a strange look but turned  
away. "Should I go on without you?"

"Yeah, I'll meet you there in a half hour."

"See ya." She gave Richie a friendly smile, with just a hint of  
interest, then disappeared through the door.

Richie turned to the man, trying to figure out what to say  
next, but he never got the chance. In between one heartbeat and  
the next, the man's sunglasses seemed to disappear and Richie was  
suddenly pinned to the wall behind him. His eyes went from blue  
to a vivid, unearthly yellow, and--this could not be happening--he  
snarled, displaying a pair of fangs.

"Who are you, and what do you want in Toronto?"

"What--" Richie choked out. Without his sunglasses, the man  
looked like... he looked like...

Richie tried to speak, to say the man's name, but he could  
hardly talk.

"Listen, I know your kind," the man - was he a man? - went on.  
"What--who--are you after?" He relaxed his grip just enough for  
Richie to reply.

"Nothing!" Richie clawed at the hand of stone holding his  
throat. He was starting to see spots in front of his eyes.

"There's only one of you Immortals I trust, and it sure as  
hell isn't you. I want the truth, or by God you won't live to see  
the morning sun."

Richie had a sickening feeling that he meant it. The vise-like  
grip relaxed a little more, enough for Richie to speak. "Look, I  
swear, I just came back for my stuff! Really!" The guy couldn't  
seriously be Michael Moore... could he? But he couldn't be a  
vampire, either. 'I'm losing my mind, that's it.'

"I know how to kill you," Nick snarled. "Someone long ago told  
me not to trust your kind."

Richie thought he might faint from lack of oxygen. Then again,  
he considered fainting just for the relief it would bring, so he  
wouldn't have to look into those feral, yellow eyes. As he  
watched now, the eyes changed back, and the man put him down. He  
collapsed onto the floor. "You... you can't be..."

"A vampire?" enquired Nick.

"Michael Moore," Richie managed to say.

"What?" That was a name Nick had not heard in a long, long time.

Richie was saying, over and over, "He's dead. He must be!"

Nick remembered Duncan MacLeod, all those years ago, calling  
him by that same name. How could this young Immortal know about  
it? "I'm not," he said. "My name is Nick Knight. I'm a homicide  
detective."

"You look almost exactly... If I didn't know he was... I could  
swear... But he went crazy... Mac killed him... How could you...  
You're... how could you be a vampire..." Richie knew he wasn't  
making any sense.

"Mac?" enquired Nick.

Richie said nothing. This... person... had said that he knew  
how to kill Immortals. If that was true, then fine. But he would  
not get Duncan MacLeod, not from Richie Ryan. No way.

Nick looked down. "I asked you a question."

"You can ask it twenty times, I'm not saying anything else."

"Have it your way." Nick looked into Richie's eyes, heard the  
kid's heartbeat. His eyes changed color again. "You will sleep now. You  
will wake up when I tell you to."

Richie's eyes closed, and he dozed off. Nick heaved a sigh of  
relief. Hypnotism had once been a vampire's mainstay, but there were too  
many resistors for comfort these days.

***

It may have been over sixty years since he'd last seen  
Duncan MacLeod, but Nick was not one to lose touch altogether. And he  
was lucky that Duncan kept his address book up to date as well. When  
he had deposited Richie on the couch in his loft, Nick dialled a  
number in the States.

"MacLeod," came the reply when the phone was picked up on the third ring.

"Duncan? It's Nick Knight."

"Nick?! Now this is a surprise. What's up?"

"There's a young Immortal here that I think you might know."

"Yeah? Who?"

"That's just it, I think he's carrying fake ID. He looks about  
20\. Blonde hair, blue eyes, kind of an attitude."

"Does his ID say Bill Powell?"

"Yeah."

"That's Richie Ryan. He's a good friend of mine."

"What you and I would call a good guy?"

"Something like that." Nick was silent, so Duncan elaborated.  
"I'd trust him with my life, Nicholas. And have."

"Okay, then." Nick paused. "He recognised me. Well, he called  
me by the same name you did when we met."

Duncan said nothing, but even over the phone Nick could hear a  
change in Duncan's heartbeat. "Duncan, the kid said you killed  
him, the guy I look like."

"I did." A long pause, as Duncan thought of his friend, Michael. How  
could he explain what he had done, especially to Nick? "I... I had no  
choice."

Nick knew exactly how that felt. It was never easy to have to do  
something like that. "I understand." A pause. So many mistakes...  
Elizabeth... Richard Lambert... "So what do you want me to do with the kid?"

"It's up to you. Richie's a good kid. You can trust him."

"All right. Thank you, Duncan."

"Anytime."

Nick put the phone down, thinking that he really had to make a plan to  
visit with Duncan one of these days. Duncan was someone who understood a  
little, and didn't condemn.

***

Duncan put his phone down, too, and looked out of the window. Nicolas de  
Brabant... Nick Knight... A vampire, but a friend. He liked Nick a lot, and  
yet he wondered if he would ever be able to look at him again without  
remembering his other friend. If only Quenten hadn't been trying to kill  
him, maybe... But if-onlys were silly. What was done was done. Duncan shook  
off the thought, thinking of Richie instead, and relaxed. He knew Richie was  
in safe hands.

***

Richie woke up, feeling decidedly odd. He started when he saw the same man -  
Nick Knight, the... vampire? - sitting on the end of the couch looking at him.

"Hullo, Richie."

Richie shot off the couch, groping for his sword. It wasn't  
there. "You *are* Michael!" But why couldn't he feel the buzz?

"No, I told you, my name is Nicholas Knight. But I did call  
Duncan MacLeod while you were asleep."

"You know Mac?"

Nick smiled. "For... oh, a hundred years or so. He also  
thought I was Michael when we met."

Richie still did not look very comfortable. "Yeah, well..." He  
couldn't think of anything else to say. The resemblance was uncanny, and yet  
there was something... different about Nick. If you knew about him, it was  
easy to see he wasn't human... or Immortal.

Nick could almost read Richie's thoughts. "They say everyone has a double  
somewhere. Uh huh. Richie, listen to me." It wasn't a command this time,  
merely a request. "I'm a vampire."

Richie remembered Duncan denying the existence of vampires to  
all who would listen, any chance he got. "Does Duncan know about  
you?"

"Of course. But you see, Richie, it is very dangerous for  
Immortals and vampires to have anything to do with each other."  
Nick explained the problem with the Enforcers.

"Well, they're way off the mark. Immortals can sense each  
other. There's no way we could mistake one of you for one of us."

Nick nodded. "I thought so. Listen, Richie. Nobody ever  
accused the Enforcers of being logical. So as far as you're  
concerned, there are no such things as vampires." Nick knew he  
could easily hypnotise Richie into forgetting all this - and it  
would probably be the best thing to do - but somehow, he knew the  
kid could be trusted. And if Richie ever came across a vampire in  
future, knowing the truth might well save his life.

***

A week later, Richie was sitting in a coffee shop downtown,  
sipping on a double mocha and feeling rather good about himself.  
For once, his life was more or less normal. Except for the  
vampires. Which he wasn't supposed to know about anyway. Still,  
as normal as his life would ever be. He smiled at the thought.  
'Enjoy it while it lasts, bud.'

Richie liked it in Toronto, but he was wondering whether he  
had decided to stay for a while *because* he liked it, or because  
he didn't want to have to face Duncan over "dying" up here... The  
latter, probably, but he was still enjoying a bit of "normality".  
That counted for something.

Suddenly, a flash of blonde hair caught his eye. He turned  
and saw the lady who had stopped him in the morgue before. Nick had told him  
who she was: Tracy Vetter, the commissioner's daughter... and his partner.  
Richie could tell that Nick liked Tracy, but not in a romantic way. 

Still, he tensed, but she just gave him that friendly smile and walked over to  
his table. "Hi. You're a friend of Nick's, right?"

"Uh...yeah. Nice to see you again."

She offered a hand. "I'm Tracy Vetter."

"Richie Ryan." He flinched inwardly when he thought of the  
other ID in his jacket. She didn't notice anything, just kept  
that friendly smile turned on him. 'Speaking of enjoying the  
moment...' "Uh...would you like to join me?"

Her smile became just a hint more friendly. "Sure."

Tracy sat down, and now that he was faced with her, Richie wasn't  
quite sure what to say. Tracy ordered a plain coffee, and then  
looked with interest at Richie. "Are you staying with Nick?"

"Yeah." 'Because he told me there are too many vampires in  
this city for the comfort of an Immortal. And I think he wants to  
keep an eye on me.'

He expected Tracy to drop the subject, but instead she leaned  
forward and in a somewhat conspiratorial tone asked, "So, what's  
Nick like when he isn't at work?"

"What?"

"You know, what does he do in his spare time?"

"Oh." Richie smiled. "He watches movies and stuff. Plays the  
piano." 'Drinks blood.' "Uh... he convinced me to play chess  
with him. Things like that."

Tracy looked relieved. "Oh. I never really thought about what  
Nick does. What's his apartment like?"

Richie described it to her, and Tracy was intrigued. Richie  
wondered what she'd say if she knew the truth about Nick.  
Somehow, he managed to change the subject, and actually enjoyed  
talking with her. Tracy had a quick mind and a friendly nature.  
They hardly noticed the time, but when Tracy looked up after her  
third cup of coffee, she noticed that the sun was going down.  
"Oops! Sunset! Time to go!"

If he hadn't known why certain... people... were aware of when  
the sun set, Richie wouldn't have thought anything of the  
comment. But now he looked at Tracy with suspicion. He knew that  
she didn't know about Nick, so why...? "Sunset?" he asked.

"Yeah, I start work soon after, and I have to meet a friend  
first." She got up and placed some money on the table. "It was  
great talking to you, Richie. Maybe we can do it again."

"Maybe," the young Immortal agreed. He waited until Tracy was  
almost out of the door before placing his money on the table and  
following her.

***

Tracy, of course, headed for the club called the Raven. She had to  
see Javier Vachon about something. Anything. Every time she met an  
attractive man - though Richie was far too young for her, he  
seemed wiser than his looks indicated - she felt she had to see  
Vachon, to see if she still wanted to be near him. Irrational,  
maybe, but the vampire had made a big impression on her.

Vachon was sitting at the bar. Thankfully his little "friend" Urs  
was nowhere to be seen. "Vachon!" Tracy said, plunking herself on the  
stool next to his.

"What can I do for you this time, Trace?"

"Why do you always assume that I want something?"

"Because you usually do."

Tracy was about to protest, but... "You're right, but I don't  
want anything this time. Just to say hi."

"And you come to a place like this to say hi."

"I thought you said it was safe here." Vachon hadn't really  
told her that the place was a vampire hang-out, but he had sort  
of... hinted.

"It IS safe here, I would just rather we met someplace else."

'Concerned about his image, maybe?' Tracy wondered. She turned  
to ask Vachon this very same question when she saw her  
supernatural pal staring at the entrance to the club.

She turned to look, and found Richie in the doorway, looking  
right at her. 'He must have followed me.' Tracy turned away with  
a sigh.

"You know that guy?" Vachon asked.

"Yeah. He's a friend of Nick's. We had coffee a while back."

"Is this some side of you I'm not aware of?" Vachon noticed  
the young man walking towards them, and wondered how he knew  
Nick. For he certainly was *not* a vampire. But there was something...

***

Richie glanced around this very odd club. It was really dark, even for  
a bar. Most of the people in it were wearing dark clothes as well -  
except for the men and women dancing onstage. They weren't wearing much  
of anything. They were all carrying red wine, or Bloody Marys, or  
something dark. In the back, he could see a shimmer of glass and what  
looked like a radio booth behind it. There were call letters on the door.

He looked back towards the bar and spotted Tracy. She was talking to  
some guy. He looked kind of like a younger version of Mac -- if Mac had ever  
been a street guy. Richie disliked him on sight. Of course it had nothing  
to do with the fact that Tracy was sitting way too close to him.

***

Tracy was denying what Vachon had said. "He's just a nice kid,  
okay? So please don't do your hypno-thing on him."

Vachon sighed an exaggerated sigh. "I won't do my hypno-thing."

"Promise, Vachon."

"Okay, okay. I promise." Vachon promised not to *hypnotise* Richie...  
but that didn't mean he couldn't encourage him to go away and leave Tracy  
alone.

"Sh!" said Tracy as Richie came up to them.

"Hi, Tracy."

"Richie, what are you doing here?"

Richie couldn't just blurt out what he'd been thinking: that  
he had to see if Tracy knew about vampires. "Uh... I don't know.  
I just..."

"You wanted to see if she was available?" interrupted Vachon. He had  
disliked Richie on sight, also.

Tracy smacked him on the shoulder. "Vachon!" She turned back  
to Richie. "Don't mind my friend Vachon here. He doesn't have any  
*manners*." She glared at the vampire.

Something about this 'friend' of Tracy's just rubbed Richie  
the wrong way. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, though.  
Was it the know-it-all look the guy was giving him? The fact that  
Richie wanted to recommend one of those Celtic hair-ties that  
Duncan wore? His urge to run the guy through a car wash, maybe?  
The rebel in Richie, the one that had always gotten him into  
trouble, came to the fore. "I can see that. No *manners*," he said  
in a rather sarcastic tone of voice.

Vachon's tone grew sarcastic also. "I was here first, kid."

"Maybe because I took time for a bath today!" retorted Richie. His stance  
showed that he was ready for a fight, and when Tracy looked over at Vachon  
she saw the same thing in his bearing.

"Uh, guys..." Tracy stood and backed away. "Uh, no, guys..."

Vachon stood also. "Then tell your little pal here to take a  
hike. You're with me."

Richie was in too deep to back off now. "Hmmm, I'll bet Tracy loves guys  
who never comb their hair!"

Vachon, despite being 400 years older than Richie (not to  
mention seven decades older than Duncan), was still unable to let  
go of his fighting instinct, the same one that had made him join  
every lost cause on the planet. Vachon *loved* a good fight. "And  
I suppose she likes you?" He turned to Tracy, unable to stop himself. "Tsk,  
tsk, Trace. I wouldn't think robbing the cradle was your style."

Richie was suffering from the same affliction - and he had always had a  
quick temper. He knew his temper always got him into trouble, but he  
couldn't stop himself any more than Vachon could. His voice grew ever so  
slightly louder. "I've been cradle-robbed by women much older than Tracy!" he  
snarled. Much older. Centuries older, in fact, but of course he couldn't say  
that.

"Guys!" yelled Tracy, jumping between them. What in the world  
had gotten into these two? Was this some sort of male macho nonsense?  
"Stop it!"

"Well, tell your new friend here to get lost!" Vachon leaned  
around Tracy and shoved Richie.

Nobody shoved Richie Ryan and got away with it. "Why don't you just  
take a hike. Or a bath!" Richie yelled, shoving back.

Tracy, quite correctly, got out of the way, looking helplessly  
at the bouncer. He might be a vampire, but he couldn't do any vamp  
things to stop the altercation...because one of the participants  
wasn't one of the Community. He was about to simply plant himself in between  
the two when the shoving match turned into a boxing match... then into a  
full-out fight. "Stop them!" Tracy yelled.

By now all the patrons of the Raven, human and vampire alike, were  
staring. Tracy was just contemplating getting out her gun  
and yelling, "Metro Police! Freeze!" when the pair went crashing  
through the soundproof glass that separated the broadcast booth  
from the rest of the club.

Luckily for Vachon and Richie, Lucien LaCroix, owner of the Raven and  
no-nonsense master vampire, wasn't in the booth at the time. But he was  
standing at the door as soon as he heard the crash.

Tracy had never met LaCroix, but someone had pointed him out  
to her as the owner of the club, so she ran up to him. "Can't you do  
something?"

LaCroix paid her just a little attention. 'Ah, yes, Nicholas's  
new partner.' "What should I do, my dear?"

"I don't --" she began. He gave her a look that pushed her back a  
step. She suddenly realized, 'If this is a vampire bar, then...' The  
thought scared her, and she moved away, wondering what to do. Finally she  
did the only thing that she could think of. She pulled out her cellular  
phone and called Nick. Nick knew Richie... and Vachon, too, come to think of  
it. Nick would stop this.

***

All Nick heard when he answered was a lot of noise and something that  
sounded like Richie's name. "I'm only a couple of blocks away!" he yelled  
into the phone. That was a lie, but it would make sense to Tracy when he  
showed up so quickly.

***

Even in the middle of the fight, Vachon remained slightly amused by it all--  
and surprised at himself. Taking on a mortal for no reason wasn't exactly his  
style. Keeping the fight to the mortal's level was even less. Maybe it had  
something to do with Tracy's presence. But for some reason, he felt a deep  
need to show this guy what a jerk he was on his own level. It was time to  
go beyond shoves and bruises. He drew back, gauged his strength carefully,  
and plowed a fist into his opponent's face.

Richie fell back, one hand on his nose to block the flow of  
blood. 'Oh, shit!' It wasn't too bad--which meant it would start  
to heal a lot faster than he'd like. He had to get this over with  
before anyone noticed.

Remembering a move Mac had used on him time and time again, he  
hooked a foot out and yanked. Vachon went crashing to the floor.  
Richie went for him--

And was pulled up short by an almost gentle hand on his  
collar. Richie looked up into the calmest face he'd ever seen and  
felt an uncontrollable rush of fear. Then he remembered that he  
was in the middle of a fight here, and braced himself, thinking  
that the his opponent would continue coming at him, but instead  
Vachon took one look at the hand holding Richie's collar, and  
fled the booth.

The hand let go of Richie's collar, and the young Immortal got  
up. "Uh..." was all he could get out.

"Really, is this any way for a young one such as yourself to  
behave?" inquired the tall, calm man.

***

It was then that Nick rushed in. He had gotten there in  
hardly any time at all, and Tracy had barely even had time to  
close her cellular phone. "Trace? What's going..." He stopped,  
staring at the scene in LaCroix's broadcast booth. His first  
instinct was to rush in there and yank Richie out as fast as he  
possibly could, but he had to play this calmly.

"What happened, Trace?"

"Vachon and Richie..." she began, trailing off. Then she tried  
again. "I didn't know what to do! They just started arguing, and  
then..."

Nick was incredulous. "They got in a fight?"

"Yeah, they did... that." She indicated the shattered window  
and the various other items strewn around inside the booth.

LaCroix was still looking at Richie. Staring at his damaged nose, as a  
matter of fact. Nick knew he had to get Richie out of there, and away from  
LaCroix as fast as possible.

LaCroix hadn't taken his eyes off Richie's face. "You're  
bleeding," he observed.

"It's nothing." Richie drew himself up. The bleeding had  
stopped and his nose was fine again. He just hoped the blood would  
conceal the fact that there was nothing wrong. He finally managed to tear  
his gaze away from those hypnotic blue eyes, and turned to see  
Nick standing just outside the booth. "Uh oh."

Trying to pretend he didn't know LaCroix, Nick looked  
pointedly at Richie. "What are you trying to do, get yourself  
killed?" he asked.

"The other guy started it."

Vachon had not left the club, merely LaCroix's piercing gaze.  
Now, from a relative distance, he said, "Did not."

Nick stepped so that he was between the pair, so that he could  
prevent any further hostilities. "I don't care who started it,  
okay?" He turned to Vachon, letting his eyes change. "I think  
it's time you left. For Tracy's sake," he added. It wouldn't do  
for Tracy to see him ordering the vampire around. He let his eyes  
change back before facing Tracy, LaCroix and Richie.

Vachon shrugged. "Fine. Whatever." Then he turned and left.

"You, in the back room, now," Nick said to Richie, indicating.

They went into the back room. Tracy and LaCroix followed.

"I can handle this," said Nick.

"I don't think so." LaCroix had been watching Richie  
carefully, and knew what he had seen.

"Tracy, I really need to speak to Richie alone."

But Tracy didn't want to leave Nick, not with the owner of the  
Raven. The man was scary, and she just knew... well, felt  
strongly... that he was a vampire too. "Just a second," Nick said  
to LaCroix, as he took Tracy by the arm and steered her out of  
the room. He hoped he could count on Richie - not to mention  
LaCroix - especially LaCroix - to behave for five seconds.

***

Of course, he couldn't. As soon as Nick and Tracy left the  
room, LaCroix turned on Richie, eyes blazing, fangs extended.  
"You're one of *them*," he said, advancing.

Richie did the first thing his instincts told him to do. He  
drew his sword. "Stay away from me!"

LaCroix stopped short. "You're one of the others, an Immortal.  
You live - and die - by your swords." Sneering, he contemplated Richie's  
rapier. "Really, I would have thought swords would have gone out of fashion  
by now."

Richie didn't care what LaCroix thought, he just wanted to live to see  
the next day. "You keep away from me! I know how to kill you!"

"I'm sure you do." LaCroix looked into Richie's eyes. He felt his  
heartbeat... "Put the sword down."

Richie slowly started to lower it, but there was a commotion outside  
the door. It was enough to draw his attention away from the  
master vampire. He looked at his sword, unable to believe what he  
had been about to do. "No!" he yelled...

The door opened to admit Nick, but not before Richie had swung  
the sword...

"Richie! No!"

The sword stopped just as it made a cut into the master  
vampire's neck. LaCroix stood there with his eyes closed. This  
was something he had not expected, not from a mere mortal. But  
then the boy wasn't a mortal at all. He hadn't counted on the boy  
being distracted and managing to resist - not to mention actually  
trying to *kill* him! So he just stood there, waiting to hear  
what Nicholas would say about this.

"He tried to kill me," Richie said to Nick.

Nick looked sideways at the young Immortal. "Do you see a  
sword around here?"

"No. But if he drained my blood he would have enough time to  
fetch one."

For a moment Nick regretted telling Richie about vampires, but he knew  
that Duncan would not be pleased if anything happened to Richie. So he had  
to smooth things over. He looked Richie in the eye. "He won't try to kill  
you again, I promise." Nick looked at LaCroix, who merely raised an eyebrow.  
"Will you, LaCroix?"

"I saw him healing. He's one of the Others. You know our  
procedure for dealing with them, Nicholas."

"Well, we're not Enforcers. And it's a stupid procedure. This doesn't  
have to go any further. Richie," he said, not using any hypnotism this time,  
"please put the sword down."

Richie looked from LaCroix to Nick and back, and finally  
lowered the sword. But he didn't let go of it. 

He turned to LaCroix. "Look, I'm sorry about that, okay? I shouldn't have  
gotten so mad. I really don't want to kill you."

LaCroix looked at Richie as though he were some bug that had  
crawled out of the slime. He really, really wanted to have Richie  
for dinner. But Nicholas... Nicholas had basically asked him not  
to. And - he hated this - Nicholas had saved his life. So he simply said,  
"You will leave my club now. You will leave this city. And you will never,  
ever come back here. Because if I ever see you again, my young friend, you'll  
wish I had killed you right here."

Richie nodded. He knew when he had overstayed his welcome.  
"Fine. I'll leave tonight."

"And you will pay for the damage."

Richie was about to protest, then thought better of it. "Yeah.  
Okay. I'll send the money to Nick."

"That is acceptable. Goodbye." LaCroix turned away, dismissing  
the young Immortal from the room and from his thoughts.

Richie looked questioningly at Nick, who was immensely relieved that  
the young Immortal had escaped with his life. "I'll meet you back at my  
place," Nick replied, wanting to get Richie out of here before LaCroix  
changed his mind. Richie nodded and left.

LaCroix turned back to his errant son. "You could have been free if  
he'd killed me."

Nick nodded. "I know. I just couldn't..." He swallowed. "I  
couldn't let him do it, LaCroix." He turned to leave as well. He  
definitely did not want to have to explain his course of action -  
either to his master or to himself. He had tried to kill LaCroix himself  
once... but many times after he had discovered the master vampire  
was alive, Nick had been glad he hadn't succeeded. And he didn't  
want to think about his reasons.

"Nicholas..."

Nick turned back.

"I suppose this means I owe you."

Nick smirked. This wasn't the first time, but it was the first  
time LaCroix had *admitted* that he owed him. "I guess it does."

"Try not to exact payment that is too expensive." There was a  
faint tone of menace in his master's voice.

Nick nodded. "All right."

***

Richie had encountered Tracy outside the club, leaning against her car and  
looking furious and worried at the same time.

"Are you okay?" she asked, coming up to him. "That guy in  
there, he didn't..."

"What?"

"He didn't try to do anything to you, did he?" She wished she could  
warn him about the existence of the undead.

When she said that, Richie knew. Tracy knew about vampires... although  
she didn't know about Nick - Nick himself had said so. 

"Nah." Richie wished he could tell her he knew that she was aware of the existence of the undead. "He made me promise to pay for the damage."

"That's it?"

"Yeah."

Tracy smiled. She knew LaCroix would never get any money out  
of Vachon. Then she realised that she was supposed to be mad.  
"What did you think you were doing in there? How could you do  
that!"

"I'm sorry!" Richie protested. The thing was, he didn't even  
know why he'd gotten so angry.

"You're sorry. You fought with a friend of mine, you nearly  
trashed the club, and you're sorry?!"

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, okay? What else can I say? I don't  
know what got into me!"

"Maybe you should apologise."

"To Grunge Boy? Forget it." Richie wasn't willing to go that far. He  
didn't even want to *see* Grunge Boy again!

"His name is Javier."

"Well, I don't have a real big urge to see him again. I'll  
pass." He looked at Tracy's blonde perkiness. "And I'd strongly  
suggest you get a better class of friends."

Tracy opened her mouth to reply, but Nick came up behind her.  
"So, Trace?"

His partner jumped. "Why do people always do that to me?"

"'Cause it's fun, I guess." Nick smiled. "Look, I'm going with  
Richie back to my place to pack, then I'll meet you at the  
station."

Tracy steered Nick a little away from Richie. "He insulted  
Vachon!"

Nick smirked. "That friend of yours rubs some people the wrong  
way, that's all. And I think you're this mad because you like  
Richie, and you wanted them to be friends."

Tracy opened her mouth to protest, then realised it was true.  
"Maybe."

Nick patted her arm. "Go and say goodbye to Richie. He's  
leaving Toronto tonight."

Tracy bit her lip and nodded, walking up to Richie. "Look,  
Richie... I don't expect you to apologise. These things can happen." She  
looked a little more closely at him. He had dried blood on his face, but  
nothing seemed cut or broken. "How's your face?"

Oops. Richie shrugged. "My nose just bled a bit. No permanent  
damage."

She looked relieved and changed the subject. "Nick says you're  
leaving Toronto."

"I am. It's time I got back to the States. I have work to do."

Tracy said nothing to that, so Richie decided to do what he  
normally would never have done. He leaned forward and kissed her.  
"See ya."

Nick's partner was rather stunned and didn't have anything to say to  
that. She merely lifted a hand and waved once as Richie got on his  
motorcycle and rode away.

Nick stood next to her. "I know how to get in touch with him  
if..." 

And Tracy smacked him on the arm. "Nick!"

"Well, okay." A pause as Nick grinned at her. Tracy smiled back - Nick  
had a *nice* grin. "I'll see Richie off and then meet you at the station."

***

Richie was throwing his few things into the bag they had liberated from the  
morgue when Nick came in. "I wonder how much money it will cost to replace  
that equipment?" he called over his shoulder.

"I'll take care of it," Nick replied. He knew that LaCroix  
would be aware that his child, not the perpetrator, had paid for  
it, but he wouldn't care as long as the expenses were taken care  
of. Besides, there was a debt involved now. Nick allowed himself another  
grin.

"Thanks." Richie zipped up his bag. "Who was that guy? I've  
never even met any Immortals as scary as he is."

Nick paused, not sure what to say. "He... He's the one who  
brought me across. My *master*."

The Immortal heard the faint hesitance in his vampire friend's  
voice. "And... you don't want him to be?"

"He has always tried to control my life. I'm just a bit sick  
of it."

"You said he 'brought you across'? Is that what you call it?"

Nick nodded. "We are brought across into the world of the  
undead, the world of vampirism, of eternal darkness."

Richie had asked Nick about his ambition to be human (which  
explained his friendship with Natalie), but he hadn't thought of this.  
"And he's, like, your master forever?"

"No. It doesn't work that way for some vampires. But my master  
is very... possessive. If I can just become human, I'll be free."

"But you'll die," Richie pointed out.

Nick smiled. "I'll have won my redemption."

"I don't get it. You *want* to be human, to get sick, grow  
old?" He paused. "I'll never be old. I'll get to fulfill every  
dream I ever have. Isn't that better than dying?"

Nick's voice was very soft. "Not without seeing the sun. I'll  
never have children, I'll never have the life I want. And it  
hurts, Richie."

Richie knew first-hand that living forever was not all  
sunshine and roses. "I know," he said, his eyes locking with  
Nick's.

And as they stared at each other, blue into blue, Immortal to  
vampire, they shared one perfect moment of understanding.

THE END


End file.
